


i'll carry you home

by silvergalaxy



Series: sunlight on your noble jaw [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Domestic Bliss, Forbidden Love, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Running Away, it's the simple life babey!!!!, they have sex in a river, uh what else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 03:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17275943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvergalaxy/pseuds/silvergalaxy
Summary: It’s been five days since they left Hawkins. They ride through meadows and woods, chasing the taste of freedom, stealing kisses, and pushing on as they get closer and closer to their happy ending.





	i'll carry you home

It’s calm, _quiet_ even, the night they finally run away.

 

Billy had always pictured it differently: pitch black, torrential rain, clapping thunder, the pounding of hooves chasing him as he tore through the forest on his horse, with Steve’s body providing a warm pressure against his soaked back.

 

It is very much _not_ like that. It’s practically still daylight when they hurry through the deserted village towards the stable, where their belongings remain hidden under a mound of hay, ready and waiting for them to load up the horses and _go._

 

The villagers are on the castle grounds, celebrating Billy’s twenty-first birthday, distracted by music, dance, and wine. His parents; preoccupied with entertaining and impressing their visitors. The knights were useless, drunk from ale and hardly paying attention to the exits, making it only too easy for Billy to slip by with Steve in tow.

 

Behind them, the castle is a hubbub of lights and sounds, laughter trickling over the walls and mingling with the soft gurgles of the stream that runs in the moat. The sun is setting, so low in the sky that even squinting against it Billy can just barely make out the shape of Steve, who’s running in front of him, his hair flopping in the breeze.

 

They’re heading west, to an isolated hillside a week’s ride from Hawkins, about a day from Greenhaven. They found it by accident, last summer, on a particularly daring adventure that got Billy in a _lot_ of trouble with his father. There, practically built into the hill, is a cottage. It’s stone, old and dirty, with dusty windows and a crumbling pathway. Wildflowers, which Billy imagines were once trimmed and lovely, grow rampant across the lawn. Twisting vines snake across the stone walls and cover the entire north-facing side of the cottage. It’s tiny, it’s quiet, and now, it’s _theirs._ The day they stumbled across it, Billy watched Steve’s face light up, listened to his voice, soft and excited, as he said, “Billy, _sweetheart_ , I think this is _it_.”

 

Everything Steve says, everything he does, everything he _is,_ Billy loves with his whole heart. It’s as if the world, suffocating and overwhelming and miserably restricting, opens up around Steve, releasing light and hope and love. Steve is Billy’s breath of fresh air, his best friend, and his partner - always.

 

They’re still running, feet skidding on the dewy grass as they race to the stable and fumble with the locked door. Billy has the key, of course. It didn’t take much for him to sweet-talk Norman into thinking that Billy wanted to go for an evening ride.

 

“Please tell me you’ve got the key,” Steve whispers as Billy searches his pockets.

 

“Of course I’ve got the key,” Billy replies. “Nice to see you’ve got so much faith in me.”

 

“Shut up and open the door, then,” Steve hisses, plastering himself against Billy’s back and bestowing a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck. “Someone will notice us.”

 

“Everybody in a five mile radius is right where we left them, getting drunk and dancing and not paying us _any_ attention,” Billy reassures him, fitting the key into the padlock. Steve is still tense behind him, so Billy turns in his arms and slides his free hand up Steve’s neck to cup his jaw. “I promise, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Steve murmurs, eyes darting to Billy’s lips, making him swipe his tongue across them reflexively. When Steve doesn’t look away, Billy leans in and presses a chaste kiss against Steve’s mouth. Steve doesn’t move, so Billy leans in, _again,_ and kisses a little harder, a little deeper, letting Steve open his mouth under his and chase his lips. Steve’s hand drops to Billy’s side, and he slowly extricates himself from Billy’s mouth.

 

“We’re never gonna get anywhere if you keep kissing me,” he says, cheeks flushed.

 

“Well, then stop looking at me like you _want_ to be kissed,” Billy replies lowly, revelling in the slow blink he gets in return.

 

“That’s going to be hard,” Steve says, reaching around Billy to twist the key and open the door.

 

“Don’t worry, baby,” says Billy, following Steve into the darkness of the stable. He speaks quietly so as to not spook the horses, “We’ll have plenty of time for kissing when we get there.”

 

“ _All_ the time in the world,” Steve says, voice barely a murmur. “Can you get the lantern? I can’t remember which pile of hay our things are underneath.”

 

“What, not afraid that someone will see the candle and come find us?” Billy snorts, but shuffles over to light the lantern all the same.

 

“I thought you said nobody was around, anyways?” Steve counters, unimpressed with Billy’s teasing.

 

“I did,” Billy tells him, because he knows that despite Steve’s steady voice, he’s still a little on edge about this whole _running away with the prince to a land where no one will ever be able to find us_ thing.

 

“Aha,” says Steve, pulling their bags from their hiding spot. “Let’s get Gracie, then let’s _go.”_

 

They had decided, long ago, when they first started orchestrating their great escape, that they should only take one horse from Billy’s stable and one of Steve’s, so that, at least for a while, the king will think that Billy left _alone._ They’re going to ride together to Steve’s on Billy’s favourite horse, Gracie, and then Steve will make the rest of the trip on Adnavik, his trusty stallion.

 

“Okay,” says Billy, swooping in to press a kiss to Steve’s cheek before tacking up Gracie and putting on the bridle. It’s only a twenty minute ride to Steve’s property where he resides with his parents, who, conveniently, are also celebrating Billy’s birthday and won’t be home to watch their hasty escape. Steve mounts the horse after Billy, settling into the saddle behind him.

 

“You ready?” asks Billy, gathering the reins in his hands while Steve’s settle on his waist.

 

“Always,” says Steve, and then they’re off.

 

They ride, and ride, and ride.

 

Billy thinks about how he’s going to miss their forest, and the village children, and his _mom_ . He thinks about the life he’s leaving behind and the life he’s running towards with Steve at his side. He thinks about the gentleness of Steve’s smile and his brown eyes, so dark that Billy thinks he could drown in them if he looks long enough. He thinks about the way Steve’s hands felt on his body when they lay in bed at night before Billy had to sneak back to the castle as the sun rose above the mountains. He thinks, dreams, _longs_ for the day when he can wake up with Steve next to him, skin to skin, sprawled across their bed, in their home, with no one to tell him that what they’re doing is wrong. _Nothing_ with Steve has ever felt wrong to Billy. Billy thinks of Steve, and he thinks of mornings on the riverbank, kisses in the vegetable patch, late night walks through the woods and laughter on the breeze.

 

That day is _coming_ , and Billy’s head is dizzy with how much he _wants._

 

-

 

It’s been five days since they left Hawkins, and they ride through meadows and woods chasing the taste of freedom, stealing kisses, and pushing on as they get closer and closer to their happy ending.

 

They sleep under the stars, and the irony is not lost on Billy that the last time they did this, _that night_ , was when Billy’s father started to make his life a real nightmare, with all of his rules that prevented Steve from visiting Billy. Now, though, they lay together, sharing blankets, listening to the soft sounds of the night as their horses snuffle and crickets chirp. There’s only a day’s ride left until they reach home, and the excitement buzzes so intensely inside of Billy that he can barely think straight.

 

“What’re you thinking about?” asks Steve, his breath tickling Billy’s neck from where Steve is draped across his chest.

 

“Nothing,” says Billy, “Everything. I dunno.”

 

“Mm,” hums Steve, his fingers tracing shapes across Billy’s skin. “Me too.”

 

“We’re so close,” Billy says, pausing because his throat starts to feel tight, and he doesn’t really want to cry like a sap, but he can’t help it. “I want this so _bad_ ,” he whispers.

 

“I want _you_ , so bad,” Steve tells him, and Billy is at least a little relieved to hear that Steve is swallowing down emotion, too.

 

The night is quiet around them, and Billy thinks that if he listens hard enough, he can hear the steady _thump_ of Steve’s heartbeat.

 

-

 

They travel over hills and through the woods, past the roaring ocean and around sloped cliffs, carefree and hopeful and together. When they finally reach the cottage, it’s almost noon on their seventh day of riding, and they’re both exhausted.

 

After ensuring that the horses have eaten, they tether them to a couple of the only remaining posts that are a part of a large pasture that backs onto the stream. Billy’s going to rebuild the fence, once they’ve settled in. There’s a barn, a short walk from the cottage, and Steve thinks that they should be able to buy a cow and some chickens from a nearby town. Billy wants a goat - he thinks they’re sweet - and Steve promised that they could get one, too.

 

For now, they open rusted windows and sweep away dust that has settled from months - years? - of disuse. Billy feels bad about pulling the vines away from the windows, but once they have, sunlight filters through the openings and illuminates the cottage.

 

Billy looks over at Steve, who’s on his knees near the door to the bedroom, pulling old rugs towards the front door to air them out. He’s filthy; smudged with dirt and sweat, his boots muddy and shirt unbuttoned. Billy thinks he looks beautiful.

 

“Are we keeping these?” Steve asks, gesturing to the rugs he’s pulling along.

 

“Maybe?” says Billy. They’re a little ugly, and really dusty, but they may come in handy if they can’t find anything at the market. “If we can’t find new ones.”

 

“We have to be smart about money, now,” Steve reminds him, and Billy tenses but nods. He’s never had to worry about money before, but he’s not a prince here. He’s just Billy, with a pouch of coins he stole from his parents and a heart that beats too loudly for a boy that he loves too much. He took, well, he took quite a lot of money, but it won’t last them forever.

 

They’ve talked about this, too - what they’ll do for a living. Steve was a baker, back in Hawkins, and he’s sure he can find a job in the nearby village if need be. Billy thinks they’ll be fine with the money he took, but it’s nice to have a plan in place just in case. Steve suggested that Billy could sell some of his paintings, but Billy’s not sure if they’re actually good enough for people to want to buy, is the thing. Steve assures him that they are, that they’re _beautiful_ , but Billy knows that Steve thinks _everything_ Billy does is amazing, so he’s not sure if he can trust him on this.

 

“Right, okay,” says Billy. “So we’ll keep the rugs. What about these?” he asks, holding up one of the clay pots that had been left behind in the old wooden cupboard.

 

“Keep ‘em,” says Steve. “We can wash them up later.”

 

They go through the cottage like that, opening windows, sweeping out dust and dirt, washing grime from the windows and walls. They find some things of use: a bed frame, a few chairs, a small stool, old blankets, even a fishing rod. All of it is a little worse for wear, but it’s better than nothing, and they’re grateful.  

 

Until they make it to town, they’re planning on using old hay from the barn and the quilt they had brought with them from home. The blankets they found in the cottage are tossed over a clothesline that Billy makes between two gnarled oaks using a spool of heavy string that Steve was smart enough to have packed. Billy thinks that once the fabric has been aired out, the blankets should be useable, too.

 

By the time the sun begins to sink in the sky and the crickets start to hum, they’ve gone through the cottage and cleaned every room. Not that there are many rooms; there’s a kitchen, a bedroom, and a small area that Billy thinks will make a good living area, where he and Steve can relax and watch the sunrise through the large window that faces east. Close by, an outhouse stands, surrounded by tall pines. The property is small, but it’s enough for them. Billy would live in a _ditch_ if it meant he got to be with Steve.

 

It’s summer, so even with the sun going down, it’s warm enough for them to wade into the water and wash off their day’s work. The gurgling water is a tad cool, but Billy can feel himself flushing at the way Steve looks at him as he strips off his shirt while he stands knee deep in the water. His pants are already off, of course, and now he’s completely naked, as is Steve.

 

“Looking good,” Steve says, wading through the shallows to get closer to Billy.

 

“Feeling good,” Billy replies, lifting his hand from where it was pushing through the water to rest it on Steve’s hip. He watches as the water drips, sliding over Steve's rosy skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. It’s so freeing, being out here, with no one around for miles and nothing to worry about. Steve leans in, tilts his head to swallow up the distance between their mouths. Billy sighs happily into the kiss, his hands settling on Steve’s sides, rubbing up and down in smooth sweeps. Steve’s got his fingers twisted in Billy’s hair, his palms cupping Billy’s jaw with tenderness, like he’s something special. They’re standing flush, waist deep in the stream. Billy can feel all of Steve, so he knows that Steve can feel him, too.

 

Steve giggles into his mouth, “I can’t believe this. We’re _here._ ”

 

“Believe it, baby,” Billy grins, squeezing at his waist. “We’re _home_.”

 

Billy loses himself in the feeling of Steve’s hands on him and the feeling of Steve’s skin under his fingertips, in his palm. Everything is warm and so _much_ that his breath comes quick. He feels tethered to this moment, his toes curling in the loose stones at the bottom of the stream, his eyes fluttering shut and his hands clenching at Steve’s back as Steve covers his neck and jaw with sloppy kisses.

 

They’re out a little deeper now, the water nearly covering Billy’s pecs. Steve, ever the gentleman, has a firm hand on the small of Billy’s back, keeping him close as the water rushes past.

 

“We’ve never had sex in a river before,” Steve takes a break from sucking bruises on Billy’s neck to whisper into his ear, his hand sliding lower and lower until his fingers dip down into Billy’s crack, thumb pressing against Billy’s hole, not pushing, just rubbing against his rim, unyielding but gentle.

 

“Oh my god, shut _up,_ Steve,” Billy moans, half in arousal and half in disbelief. “What about that day in-”

 

Steve cuts him off, “That was a _pond,_ sweetheart.”

 

“Okay, but this is more of a stream, than a river,” Billy points out, and Steve drops his mouth and _bites_ at Billy’s neck.

 

“Do you want me to finger you, or not?” Steve asks.

 

“ _Please_ ,” Billy breathes, and Steve smiles at him, syrupy sweet and soft.

 

“Yeah, _that’s_ what I thought,” he says, and Billy wants to push him away, tell him to stop being so smug, but then Steve’s middle finger is pushing into him, and Billy whines, leaning forward to rest his forehead on Steve’s shoulder.

 

“That good?” Steve asks after a minute, crooking his finger the way he knows Billy likes, and Billy nods, wordless. “Huh?” says Steve, a second finger now prodding at Billy’s entrance, teasing. “I said, do you like that, baby?”

 

“Yes, _Steve_ ,” Billy gasps, “I like that, you _know_ I like that.”

 

“I know,” Steve says quietly, his hand tilting Billy’s chin up so their lips can meet. “I just like hearing you say it,” Steve whispers against Billy’s mouth, and Billy kisses him _just_ to make him stop saying things that turn Billy’s cheeks pink and make his head all fuzzy.

 

It doesn’t take long before Billy’s too turned on to properly kiss, or for Steve to work three fingers into him, stretch him out and drag embarrassing moans and whimpers from Billy’s throat that leave him wanting to hide his face in Steve’s neck. Billy’s hand that isn’t tightly grasping at Steve’s back is on his cock, slowly rubbing back and forth with his thumb on the head, just the way Steve likes it. They’re both panting a little, their heavy breaths rising in tiny bursts in the evening air. Billy presses open-mouthed kisses over Steve’s Adam’s apple, only faltering when his mouth opens on a moan from a particularly smart crook of Steve’s fingers.

 

“I’m close,” Steve tells him, voice husky, and Billy tightens his grip on Steve’s cock, jerking him nice and _tight,_ his thumb pressing on his slit. It’s only a few seconds before Steve’s coming all over Billy’s hand, a brief moment of warmth in his palm before the rush of water washes it away. As Steve comes, his fingers curl inside of Billy, stilling, and Billy whimpers at the pressure on his prostate.

 

There’s a moment where neither of them are moving, besides the involuntary twitches Billy is making around Steve’s fingers, and the lack of movement makes Billy all too aware of the tiny sounds bubbling up in his throat.

 

When Steve’s fingers start moving again, Billy’s hips stutter forward into Steve’s, and Steve readjusts his stance so that his thigh is pressed between Billy’s legs.

 

“C’mon,” says Steve, “Rub off on me, sweetheart.”

 

Having something to rut into is nice, but it adds the problem that now, Billy can’t decide whether he wants to roll his hips back onto Steve’s hand, or forwards, humping Steve’s thigh. Everything is slippery, and Steve’s got his other hand on Billy’s ass while Billy jerks clumsily in his hold.

 

“Can you,” Billy starts to say, breathless, and Steve just nods.

 

“Yeah, Billy. Anything,” he says, still toying with Billy’s prostate.

 

“Can you hold me closer,” Billy gasps, grinding down on Steve’s thigh as Steve’s fingers follow him.

 

“Of course,” Steve says, adjusting his grip so that his arm is looped around Billy’s back, pulling him in close so that they’re pressed tightly together, chest to chest.

 

When Billy comes, he cries out, and Steve swallows his moan with a kiss, passionate and heavy and so, _so_ soft that Billy thinks he might just cry. Now that they’ve finished, the sun has set and Billy’s finally feeling the cold. He wraps both of his arms around Steve’s shoulders and squeezes him tight, waits while Steve slowly pulls his fingers from Billy and runs them through the water before gathering Billy up in his arms. They stand there under the moon, cold and spent. Billy’s never felt more alive, more in love, than he does now.

 

Billy can imagine the sun breaking across the horizon on crisp autumn mornings and the smell of Steve’s blueberry bread drifting through the kitchen window and out into the garden where Billy will plant tomatoes and carrots. He imagines falling asleep next to Steve on a hammock under the canopy of the willow tree near the pasture and growing old with Steve by his side, in this quiet little paradise.

 

The fact that this is their reality now is finally setting in, and Billy can hardly wrap his head around the idea that he gets to _have_ this with the person he loves more than anything or anyone else in the entire world.

 

“Are you ready for bed?” Steve asks, a hand rubbing up and down Billy’s back sweetly.

 

“Yeah,” Billy says. He’s ready for _everything_ , with Steve. “I am.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh so i've never had sex in a river (stream?) so excuse any inaccuracies lol
> 
> this series is on tumblr [here](http://www.sociophonetic.tumblr.com/tagged/soynj)


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